Ruined
by Sephielya J. Maxwell
Summary: Toris finds something which triggers a particularly shameful memory while cleaning Ivan's private office. The effect of this is...?


Notes

1) I have no excuse. 2) I shouldn't start writing at 3am, and 3) I have an unhealthy love for maid!Toris even though I like him as a bamph!

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There was nothing particular about the room that he was currently in, aside from the mess which had accumulated over the past few days. Stacks of papers and open books with marked pages and messy scribbles in the margins laid about, while half a dozen empty cups of tea and at least one empty bottle of vodka littered every stable surface. It could have been a lot worse, considering everything. It had taken days to make this mess, but it would only take about half a day to clean it. And of course, _he _would have to clean it. No one was allowed inside Ivan's personal office aside from generals and the Tsar—and his personal assistant. At least, that was what they had come to refer to Toris as.

It was much nicer than some of the many names he had been called before. However, his current predicament didn't help that small bit of pride that the brunette had left to cling to. After days of running all about this large house, delivering letters and writing up dozens of official documents to be signed by the Russian nation, making tea, and giving his quiet input here and there, all while Ivan stayed locked away in his office from dawn to dusk, this was his only thanks.

Ivan had even made the effort to find him personally before he left for business earlier that day, just to make sure that he remembered. As if he could forget! It had started out as a sort of teasing, but had quickly become a frighteningly normal occurrence. So when Ivan said those parting words, "Oh Toris, don't forget to dress properly when you clean today!", there had been no question as to what he meant.

Setting the bucket of water down along with the stack of clean towels, Toris clenched his fists on top of the desk for a moment as he felt heat rush to his face as he recalled his brother's faces from just moments ago. Raivis' expression had been pitying, and Eduard had tried to ignore it all together, but that only made the brunette feel even more humiliated. Glancing to the side, he caught sight of himself in the mirror above the small bar in the office.

The black dress fit his body like a glove, though Toris never could figure out exactly how Ivan had gotten his exact measurements. It had a high collar and short sleeves with slightly puffed shoulders, cuffed white. The length of it went to just below his knees, where his thigh-high stockings vanished underneath. The white apron went over his shoulders to come down and wrap once around his waist, tying behind him. Most of his hair was tied back, but those unruly bangs still hung forward on the sides. Biting the inside of his cheek, he huffed in irritation as he tore his gaze away.

If only everyone knew what a pervert the smiling Russian nation really was! Even if they saw through his initial façade of innocence and friendliness, there was no way they would ever suspect something like this! No, not the childish Russian! Frightening, yes! But sexual?; No! Toris closed an open book with a slam, adding it to the pile that he was currently creating. He supposed that even if they saw him like this, the other nations would all assume that it was something like a simple hazing… But there was _nothing _simple about this dress!

Shoving the books all back into their places on the shelves, he began to collect the used and dirty teacups. Toris had worn the dress many times since then, but he'd never been back in this office—not wearing it… Never those two at the same time! But it was alright, wasn't it? Ivan wasn't even here today, wasn't expected back until later… Setting the last teacup onto the cloth he'd set aside, he picked up the empty vodka bottle. Dropping it into the trash, he noticed that the top right drawer of Ivan's desk was slightly ajar. It was normally locked, and so he had to admit… he was curious. Glancing from side to side as if someone might actually see him in this secluded room, he swallowed. Reaching down slowly, he hooked his finger into the metal handle.

It opened with a quiet grating of wood. The first thing that he saw was the glint of light on metal, and his heart skipped a beat when he beheld the gun there. Eyes moving on, there were several other small objects. Bits of wrapped chocolate and caramels, various pens and stamps, and a silver flask with the Imperial crest. There was also a small object which seemed to be wrapped in a cloth. He frowned at the sight, recognizing the cloth as one of the ones he often used to clean with. It was stained with what seemed to be tea, and something else…

Picking it up to investigate it, Toris carefully unwrapped the unidentified object to reveal… a teacup? A broken one by the looks of it, the handle having been snapped off. It was white with a gold rim all around the tip, and pink and yellow flowers all along the outside. It looked like it had been expensive… Emerald eyes widened slowly, followed by a swiftly rising heat gathering at the brunette's cheeks. He _knew _this cup! He saw its mate almost every day when he made tea, but he never used it because it was alone. No, that wasn't why he didn't use it.

Biting his lower lip, he traced the gold rim with the tip of one finger slowly. He'd been the one to break this valuable cup, years ago… The shoes he wore in this dress didn't have much for heels, but it had been his first day wearing them! He could hardly be blamed for tripping, but when did Ivan ever need a good reason? He held the cup in one hand as he reached out curiously, moving aside a map laid out on the desk's mahogany surface. The cool surface was stained there, a pitch black against the naturally streaked brown.

They say that one remembered bad things more clearly than the rest. Such a horrible burden for a nation to carry with them! Toris remembered the incident as if it was only yesterday, and it was the sole reason that he had always avoided cleaning this room whenever he was forced to dress like this. The carpet had been slightly folded, his footing already uneven in new heels, the nation turned maid hadn't stood a chance.

Such an expensive cup, Ivan had lamented, and oh now the rug was stained… Though Toris had tried his best to clean everything up as he nursed the slight burn on his hand, Ivan hadn't been satisfied. _Come over here, _the soft voice in his memory told him, _and bend over the desk. Let me give you a lesson in balance. _Oh, how his face had burned—much like it was doing now! But it had nothing on the blow that he took to his pride that day. Cleared of everything but a single bottle of ink, like the one sitting at the corner of the desk now, the Russian had forced the Lithuanian face-fold over the cold, hard surface of the desk.

Presently Toris' palm pressed flat against that very surface. At that time he'd wished its coolness could fight the blush of indigence on his cheek, but to no avail. Ivan's next move had been to lift those skirts, all the way to Toris' lower back. Eyes closed as he shivered, remembering all _too well _the feeling of those warm and calloused fingertips on the backs of his thighs as they gathered them up. Hands fisted and toes curled within his already tight shoes, the brunette had never felt so humiliated…

The bottle of ink had been opened quietly, and set upon the flat space in the small of the smaller nations back. _Don't spill it… _The touches had come next… Not that Toris had been touched very often to begin with, but over the stockings it felt entirely different! Swallowing, the brunette currently reached down between his thighs as if to test if it still felt the same. Everything was smooth through those stockings, even the Russian's fingertips. And _oh, _his lips had followed… Ivan had pulled down one stocking, and then the other, kissing those toned thighs one by one with warm, _moist _lips which left small spots which raised goose bumps as they caught the air.

It was this way that Ivan had found his weakness. After weeks of searching, he'd stumbled across the one place which Toris could not ignore being teased. The inside of his thighs were incredibly sensitive, as it would turn out. The brunette had already been panting against the desk, trembling slightly, when his black panties—courtesy of Ivan 'confiscating' all of his normal underwear—had been lowered to his knees. It was only then that the blows had come from that perfectly cupped hand. Toris had been forced to reach back behind him with one hand, holding the ink well as still as he could as he took his punishment. And Ivan hadn't been satisfied until his 'maid's' supple backside was the exact shade of his red face, and ink had leaked across the small of his back and onto the desk below him.

"_Aaah…_" The sound echoed through the office suddenly, shocking the room's only occupant. Green eyes opened to find his cheek resting against the cool surface of the desk, both of his hands buried underneath his skirts. One of them touched his inner thighs lightly, as the other seemed to be caught in mid-stroke of the growing arousal beneath his underwear. "Oh, _damn it all…_" He groaned, closing his eyes again. This time he recognized his own voice at least. Slipping his fingers under the band of his underwear now, he wrapped his fingers around himself properly. "_What, aah, have you done to me…_" He murmured as he began to stroke, breath hitching in the middle.

In his mind he remembered the events after his punishment as well. Ivan's retrieving the small bottle of oil, recalled his fear as those fingers had penetrated him one by one… "_Ooh… I hate you…_!" Pleasure, he'd felt nothing but physical pleasure over the humiliation and discomfort of his sore backside. Ivan had mercilessly searched out the place which he knew could bring his subordinate nation the highest pleasure, and exploited it ruthlessly. "_Ahh, haa…_" Short, hot breath created a light steam on the desk, Toris' bangs sticking to it and the sides of his face as he panted. His terror at the thought of taking _that _again, how Ivan had held him down… Had he wanted to escape by that point? More importantly, would he _now_?

Green eyes were filled with tears of shame, but his body had become so honest… "_Yes…_!" But _no, _it just wasn't enough! He was missing so much to this story… The _fullness, _the thrusts which had bruised his hips against the desk's edge at the time (Ivan had since learned to control them much better)… "_Aaah, ah, mmh, n-nnh…_!" Perhaps it was his own voice which distracted him, or maybe it was the frustration of his mounting pleasure which was quickly becoming an insurmountable hill. Whatever the case, the small click of the door went unnoticed by the brunette, so wrapped up in his own attention. There was a moment of shocked silence following it, before,

"…Toris?" The soft voice questioned, unbelieving. For just a split second, the brunette thought he was still caught up in his memories.

"_I hate you…_" He groaned in anguish—a sweet anguish. It was the second after the last word left his mouth that he felt his blood suddenly run cold. Wide eyes moved up to the door, hunched over the desk as he was, facing the room's newest occupant. Equally surprised violet eyes met his own as Ivan stared back, too confused to even be hurt by those words. "_Y… you did this to me_!" Toris quickly countered, panicked. Ivan licked his lips swiftly, his eyes shifting down to where the brunette had just a moment ago been touching himself. Though he covered himself now, there was no hiding it. And there was no hiding the heaviness lust, or the scent of it that had become so thick in the small office.

His day had started out so troublesome, too. After days of nothing but work, work, work, he'd been sent to the palace himself to discuss business with the Tsar. Things had gotten a bit heated there, and he'd left early in order to cool off, heading for his office for a drink… To find this sight… On the desk he spotted it: the teacup. Raising one eyebrow, he suddenly understood. Pale lips curled slowly into a wide grin, as he closed the door shut behind him. Reaching up, he clicked the lock. "Oh Toris…" The Russian lamented with a sigh, setting his things aside as he headed for the desk. "I can see I've been lax with your discipline, haven't I? Or perhaps you felt neglected, and are just acting out for my attention?"

Toris' heart leapt into his throat with every step that Ivan took towards him. The Russian wasn't angry? Disgusted? No, more than that, he looked _happy_! And those words… A crushing pressure was released from the brunette's chest suddenly, even as his next words passed his lips, "You've ruined me."

"_Nyet, _Toryshka. I've only brought you down to my level…" Ivan stated as he took a hold of Toris' chin in his fingers. "Now…_bend over._"

Perhaps it wasn't so bad, being ruined. At least here, neither of them would be alone.


End file.
